


Chase Me Through The Trees, Mister Wolf

by MissDizzyD



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Creeper Derek, Derek finds out Stiles' secret, Frolicking in the Forest, Gen, M/M, full wolf Derek, mentions of mama stilinski, werefox!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDizzyD/pseuds/MissDizzyD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stiles was... happy. Really happy. Happy in a way that had the forest singing to him, urging him to go and play and frolic and let his fox have some fun for once."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this little fic about Fox!Stiles and Wolf!Derek. I certainly enjoyed writing it :)

It was a Thursday. That was all that Stiles knew at first, that it was Thursday; he was hungry; and he was... happy. Really happy. Happy in a way that had the forest singing to him, urging him to go and play and frolic and let his fox have some fun for once because if there was one thing that had changed since Scott got bitten, it’s how much Stiles trusted the forest to protect him in his fur. He just couldn’t risk shifting with Derek and the betas out and about at all hours.

Stiles rubbed his cheek against his pillow, more in touch with his canine side whilst he was still in the hazy state between sleep and wakefulness. It had been so long... His mom would laugh at him for being afraid of a few werewolves.

A knock came at Stiles’ door.

“Yuhhhh?” He grunted, granting his dad access to his room. 

“Come on, kid. It’s already seven-thirty,” the Sheriff said as he entered, striding over to the bed and peeling the blankets away and off Stiles’ head. “Oh, uh, okay that’s not happened in a while,” he muttered. Stiles felt a pull against the top of his head and batted his dad’s hands away.

“Bit longer,” he groaned into his pillow, “Ten minutes.”

“Stiles, kiddo,” the Sheriff nudged his shoulder, shaking him to rouse him, “Your ears are out. You might wanna get that in check before school.”

Stiles sat up slowly and reached up, scrunching his forehead when he felt not his round, human ears, but his huge, pointed, _furry_ fox ears. It wasn’t a new development. Stiles had had trouble controlling his fox when he was younger, mostly when he was sad or angry at the world and needed somewhere to retreat to – somewhere where he wouldn’t have to talk about his feeling and he was free to grieve; somewhere where emotions were simpler and he didn’t feel guilt or insecurity because he ran on instinct and those emotions were far too complicated.

Needless to say, he spent a lot of time curled up in his fox form after his mom died, sometimes hidden under her dressing gown, wallowing in the sadness that came with a lost family member. 

But it didn’t happen so often anymore, hadn’t happened in about four years, actually, and it had been even longer since his dad saw him like this, all pointy-eared and sharp faced. He looked over to his mirror and sure enough, his face had changed sometime during the night, his nose thinning, eyes shimmering a more pronounced amber than usual and slanting upwards at the corners. 

However, his ears were definitely the most obviously change. They morphed from his human ears into enormous, triangular satellite dishes protruding several inches out the top of his head. Excellent for improved hearing, not so great when you’re expected in school in a quarter of an hour. Speaking of...

“Damn!” Stiles said, bolting upright and jumping out of his bed to search for clean clothes amongst the sea of dirty laundry on his floor. 

“Stiles, Stiles, Stiles,” the Sheriff said, catching his wrist as he reached for his cell phone on the dresser. “Are you feeling okay? It’s just last time this happened...” He trailed off, unwilling to say the actual words.

“Yeah, actually... I’m kinda... Good,” Stiles replied as he lifted one hand to scratch at an itch behind his ear. Phantom Fleas, his mother used to call them.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m happy, I just feel like I need to run, maybe go for a hike or something.”

“Okay, hold on mister,” his Dad sighed, stepping between Stiles and his bedroom door. “First, you’re still furry up top and no matter what you say, I don’t think you’ll be able to get it under control today. When was the last time you actually shifted? Your... Your mom used to get antsy if she didn’t shift for a while. I can’t believe I’m saying this but you should take the day off school. I’ll call in sick for you. Go for a run, prance about with the wildlife, be one with nature or whatever. Do your foxy thing today and go back tomorrow.”

“No, dad, I can’t I’ve got this Spanish test today with Miss Wilcox...” Stiles protested weakly, playing with the hem of the Henley he’d found scrunched near his drawers. 

“I don’t think she’ll mind. Not if the alternative is you growing fur in her lesson,” the Sheriff huffed a laugh and scrubbed his fingers down his face. “I mean it. You need a day off and the weather’s good today. I’ll ring school.”

After he left the room, Stiles sat back down on his bed and stripped his shirt. What his dad had said was true. There was no way he wasn’t going to be able to stave off the transformation now, especially when it was the first nice day they’d had in what seemed like months. He wanted to roll in the grass and come back to the den smelling of spring flowers and earth. The fox in him yearned to be set free. 

And what could he do but comply?

~~~

It had been way too long. Way, _way_ too long since he properly ran, dashing madly through the trees of the preserve and letting instinct take over: following scent trails until they ran out or led down a burrow; snapping playfully at butterflies when they flew too close; chasing his own tail when it startled him (he then pretended it was _totally_ on purpose, obviously). 

He couldn’t remember the last time he had gone as far as the stream, even in his human form. It was really his mom’s special place and they only went as a treat or on an occasional day trip when the weather was particularly nice. That was why he had chosen it as his destination today. A part of him wanted to be closer to his mother today. Not in the sense that he would visit her headstone or look through her belongings just to refresh the scent in his memory but in the sense that he wanted to remember the happy times with her and be in a place they had shared, just the two of them.

When he arrived at the stream an hour or so later, he bathed his plush fur in the cool water and took a quick drink before dragging himself out and onto a flat rock on the bank. Stiles let himself collapse onto the sun warmed stone, his legs lolling above him when he rolled onto his back. The sun felt so good on his fur. It warmed him right to his core and settled something within him that had been cooped up for years too long. 

Soon enough, the glorious heat of the sun and the soft sounds of the stream lulled him off to sleep, sprawled across a rock in the middle of the forest, but feeling safe. These were his woods. He would be protected here. 

~~~

Which was all well and good in theory, but when he woke up not much later to the snarling of a huge beast prowling in the dark shadows, he couldn’t help but feel like he deserved it. He rolled over onto his front, crouching low on nimble paws and staring at the monster until his prey drive finally kicked in and he bolted off into the woods. 

Low hanging branches whipped past his muzzle as he raced back towards his den, towards somewhere safe from the monster chasing him, towards home where his dad could protect him. The tiny human side of Stiles’ brain knew that it was futile, that he would never outrun the hulking thing that was already gaining on him after just a few hundred metres, but flight instinct won out and his heart hammered as he darted through the undergrowth.

Stiles barked in surprise when a huge, clawed paw swiped at his side, sending him flying off course. He barely had time to glance back at his right shoulder where four long slashes were bleeding slowly onto the forest floor before he was pinned flat on his back, dirt rubbing into the wound, with the creature looming above him.

Except it wasn’t so much a creature anymore but a livid-looking, angel-stubbled, extremely naked Derek Hale crouching over him and pinning him with one hand on his ribs and the other around his neck.

“Who are you?” Derek demanded, baring his teeth in a snarl that was just as vicious as his wolf-monster counterpart. “Why are you encroaching on Hale territory?” The Alpha punctuated the question by tightening his hold on Stiles’ throat, slowly choking him, until Stiles yipped breathlessly and batted at Derek’s huge hand with his paw. Only then did Derek let up enough that air could pass through his wind pipe. “Change back. Right. Now.”

_Oh God_ , Stiles thought, _If only I could_. But Stiles was brought up being constantly taught to protect the secret. Conceal himself and don’t let the other part of him show around company, not even Scott. Hide the fox away until it was safe to run freely. That was the only reason he hadn’t told Derek his secret yet, it had been drilled into him too completely not to trust anyone at all, let alone a temperamental new Alpha werewolf with trust issues. 

“I said, _change back_ ,” Derek growled, his eyes bleeding red in a trick that wouldn’t work against most werefoxes, but Stiles... Derek was Stiles’ Alpha so the eyes worked all too well on him. He felt as his limbs elongated and cracked back into position, muzzle shrinking back into a nose and his tail retracting back into his body (and yeah, that would always feel weird). Stiles heard the tiny gasp from Derek, felt him withdraw backwards slightly when his fur melted away to reveal pale skin and... not much else.  
Christ, this was not how he imagined his first time naked with Derek.

Stiles snapped his eyes up to Derek’s face when a warm, calloused hand brushed against his waist, trailing down to his hip and resting there, heating the skin and making Stiles squirm at the tickling sensation. This was definitely not the reaction he had expected. 

“Shift for me?” Derek said softly after a moment, barely above a whisper but seeming all too loud in the space between them.  
Stiles obliged, looking back at Derek’s face when the transformation was complete only to see red eyes staring back from a pitch black, furred face. Knowing that Derek was under all that bulk helped him tame his immediate reaction to run and hide. 

Derek leaned his head down carefully, nosing at Stiles’ cheek and taking quick, snuffling breaths through his nose as he moved further down to his soft-furred neck. Stiles automatically tucked his chin down against the assault, blocking out the intrusive sniffing with a small whimper at the back of his throat, which was answered immediately by a comforting rumble deep in the wolf’s chest and a series of long, slow licks to Stiles’ abdomen. 

It took Stiles longer than he cares to admit to recognize the sound of his own purring. 

He hadn’t been groomed in such a long time and it’d never been like _this_. Never so perfect, never by Derek. His eyelids slipped closed and he thought that maybe Derek missed this, too. Maybe he missed having his family around him just for the comfort of another furry body alongside his own and a feeling of not being alone anymore. Maybe they could be each others’ family now, broken and thrown together by necessity, barely functional but reassuring. 

Stiles didn’t even realise that he had bared his throat until sharp teeth suddenly pressed down against his skin, nipping up to bite gently at his cheek, following the action with a tiny kitten lick that, after a beat, Stiles hesitantly returned. 

The wolf stilled, tensing for long enough that Stiles whined and tried to wriggle away, stopping only when Derek pressed their cheeks together, rubbing slightly. Scent exchange. 

Derek lay down next to him, pushing his nose under Stiles’ ear and breathing deeply, growling softly when Stiles made to move. Instead, the fox let himself burrow closer, pressing against dark fur until he was comfortable. Any thought of responsibilities and awkwardness fled in the face of a loooooong nap in the sun with his new (surprisingly fluffy) cuddle-buddy. He gave a quick lick at Derek’s chin and laid his head down, slipping off to sleep almost instantly. 

These were his and Derek’s woods, and they were finally safe.


	2. You Are Fantastic, Mister Fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Stiles awoke to the sensation of a long, warm tongue laving over his shoulder, stinging with every stroke across his skin."
> 
> Wounds are tended to, Stiles struggles with his shift, and Derek does even more chasing through the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only 3 years later, lol! Sorry folks.
> 
> So I've not written in over two years, and it's been even longer than that since I watched any TW. Fuck canon.
> 
> Enjoy!

Stiles awoke to the sensation of a long, warm tongue laving over his shoulder, stinging with every stroke across his skin. The feel of it wasn’t entirely unpleasant and he took a moment to stretch lazily, cracking his knuckles in front of him and pushing backwards into thick, shaggy fur. He rested a hand over his eyes. For a day that had predominantly been spent napping he sure wasn’t ready to be conscious.

The sky above was beginning to cloud over and a breeze swept through the forest. Stiles shivered, tucking into a ball and curling his arms around himself.

His furless, human arms. _Shit._

The wolf – Derek – grumbled in complaint as Stiles sat up, attempting to scramble away and cover up some of his _everything_ that was suddenly on show. (Although, given by how stiff his back was, he’d been human for quite some time. Forest floors were less forgiving of human flesh than fox fur.)

Derek took a minute to stretch out too, back leg twitching as he rolled over and allowed his tongue to loll, staring at Stiles with big, beautiful red eyes. He seemed in no hurry to address the elephant in the room that was Stiles’ newly revealed heritage. Stiles, who was feeling so incredibly bare and exposed and naked. He closed his eyes and willed his fur back, heart sinking when he felt a spot of rain hit the skin on the back of his still-human hand.

“What?” He muttered disbelievingly beneath his breath. He tried again. No luck. The shift was refusing to co-operate. His heart sank as he tried to head off the rising panic. Derek righted himself, shuffling over and cocking his head in confusion. “It’s… been a while. Just give it a second, I’m sure I can-” Stiles presses his fingers into the corner of his eyes, focussing on silky ears, a warm belly, plush fur, bright eyes. Nothing. He felt a pang in his chest. “Why can’t I do it?” He asked quietly, feeling hot tears prickle his eyelids. He’d had control over his shift for years, whether it was staying in form with his mother or keeping it at bay since she died.

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice sounded rough and quiet from disuse. He had shifted back to his human form and was kneeling in front of Stiles, hovering around a foot away as if he wasn’t sure of his welcome. Stiles dropped his hand, eyes straying across Derek’s uncharacteristically open, honest face. Derek always looked so at home in the forest, whether in his human skin or his fur. His dark hair, green eyes and dusky toned skin lent themselves to a life lived in nature and his voice was soft enough to be lost on the evening breeze. Even his scent was earthy, though Stiles struggled to remember it now his olfactory senses were back to that of a regular human. The desire for the shift took him again. Stiles would give anything to bask in that scent again. “Just relax, you can do it.”

Red bloomed from his irises, overtaking the green, and Stiles watched in envy as his shift took him, easy as day turning to night as black fur sprouted and enveloped his quadrupedal form. Crimson eyes looked into Stiles’ as the wolf leaned forwardly to gently boop their noses together.

The rain started to fall in earnest, hot and humid as it sluiced over his body.

“Come on, come on, come on…” The rain was good, it was natural and pure. He tried to focus on the feeling of it hitting his skin, raindrops sliding down his face as he looked skyward past the canopy to where the dark clouds had collected seemingly from nowhere. The water was stinging where it ran across his shoulder wound, already beginning to heal, if slowly. Alpha claws would do that. He’d probably need to get the cuts seen to, but Derek had been thoughtful enough to clean them already so that was a thought for later. “Nature, nature… Fur. Fox ears, whiskers…” The wolf gave an amused huff. “Yeah, laugh it up.” A tongue against his cheek, lapping up rain water. Stiles closed his eyes and leant into it. “Toe beans, bushy tail, chest floof,” he lifted a hand to and threaded his painfully human fingers through the now damp fur of Derek’s cheek. “Nature sounds, smells to track down,” a deep breath. The scent of wet dirt filled his lungs. He wanted to roll in it.

A vole snuffled through the undergrowth 200 feet off to the east.

The wolf pulled back slightly, a curious rumble escaping him.

“Oh,” Stiles said, excitedly reaching up to feel his silky ears and narrowed nose. “Well, hell yes. That’s a start.” He grabbed Derek’s canine face in his hands and pulled him in to deeply inhale his scent once more. “That’s the stuff,” he let out happily. “The shift is usually easier from here, let me see…”

He shut his eyes once more, still breathing in Derek and rainwater, dirt and wet foliage. He pictured himself as a fox, hurtling through the trees at top speed with a hulking great brute of a wolf, allowing himself to live past the memory of the chase earlier. They ran and ran, eventually joining up with five other four-legged canines of varying shades and tones, chasing and being chased in equal measure as they barrelled along, carefree and joyful as a complete pack. A family. It was a wonderful image.

A nose snuffled at Stiles’ soft underbelly, bringing him back to the present. He yipped happily, jumping up and down and spinning in place on his four furred legs. He’d done it. He’d regained some control over his shift.

The wolf received no warning as the bundle of orange fur and limbs barged into him, barely moving him an inch but unbalancing him enough that he had to re-centre himself. Stiles – the fox – rolled across the forest floor several feet past Derek and came to a stop on his feet, oddly graceful on four legs rather than two. Amber eyes stared up at him as teeth bared and Stiles gave a pitiful, playful growl.

Derek growled right back, his bass-y timbre more impressive by ten-fold.

The fox laughed, breath huffing through his nose as he began to circle around Derek, keeping his belly low to the ground at all times. All the muscles under red fur looked tense and on edge, as though the creature was preparing to bolt. Derek gave another low, teasing growl, also adopting a readied stance and waiting.

Waiting.

 

Waiting.

 

 

The fox took off into the forest, reaching an incredible speed as he dashed to and fro, shimmying under fallen trees, darting through coarse underbrush, leaping over a fast-growing stream and losing no time on the landing as he dashed faster and faster through the woodland.

But Derek was fast too. And he had the advantage of running these woods day in day out. He ducked and weaved past the sequoias and pines he had grown up with, springing over the trees Stiles had had to go under. Undergrowth was no problem when your legs easily cleared most shrubbery. Derek was a natural predator and there was no way anything could outrun him in these woods, not even a nimble little fox like Stiles.

As soon as he was in range, Derek nipped at the bottle-brush tail with his teeth, startling a surprised yelp out of the fox. He allowed the pleasure of a successful hunt to overtake him for just a moment before pulling forward to draw level with Stiles, matching pace as they continued to run through the blissfully tranquil forest with nothing but the sound of rain pounding soil and their heavy breathing to accompany them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you in another 3 years!

**Author's Note:**

> And there you have it.  
> Also, I take Sterek prompts so shoot me a message or hit me up on Tumblr: http://imtheanomaly.tumblr.com/


End file.
